


Carry On Your Way

by QueenofHalicarnassus (orphan_account)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Evil Ardyn, Gen, Non-Explicit, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 00:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/QueenofHalicarnassus
Summary: Noctis sacrifices to get Ignis’ eyesight back.





	Carry On Your Way

Ardyn Izunia. Noctis had, like the rest of his party, initially been put off by the man. The slick, dirty sort of feeling he exuded was paired with sickly smiles and glances of poorly concealed disdain. It was if they were cockroaches, and Ardyn the unfortunate soul tasked with seeing to them.

He was an inconvenient aid, unwanted and always leaving a sense of wrong.

Then Altissia.

Noctis should have known. He told himself that every day, went to sleep with that weight on his shoulders, the responsibility for not seeing Ardyn for what he was. If he had, Lunafreya would be alive, Ignis would still be able to see, and maybe he could’ve been strong enough to keep Altissia from being devastated.

Logically it meant he shouldn't be sitting where he was, across from the man, on a train.

Noctis’ feet were planted on the floor, toes curling in his boots, fists clenched at his sides. Murder raged in his veins. He kept still, now was not the time for violence.

Ardyn sat across from him, his head tilted, lips touched up by mirth, one leg jauntily crossing the other and an arm stretched out along the back of the seat. His fingers lightly drummed against the soft leather covering of the bench's backing. 

“A curious impasse we're at, aren't we?”

Noctis slowly unclenched his jaw, trying to ease the pressure rising in his chest. Stand tall, hold yourself like a king. His father's words. His father's own actions. This was something he could do. It needed to be done.

“Come now, don't look so glum,” Ardyn's eyes flashed with cruel glee. “It's not like I killed someone?”

Noctis barely restrained himself.

“Oh, right, I did, didn't I? Terrible accident that. But we'll let bygones be bygones, won't we? Little Prince, oh, pardon, I mean King,” his voice dripped with contempt, “wants something.”

A raven haired head inclined just so. Ardyn rolled his head, bringing a hand to his face to inspect his fingernails. He looked up with an affected manner of boredom and then brushed his pants off.

“Well, what could a king want from a humble civil servant like myself?”

“I want my friend's eyesight back.”

Ardyn feigned surprise.

“Really? Is that all? Seems a bit wasteful, a king like you could just replace your retainer, maybe even put the poor thing out of its misery, like an old dog.”

“Shut up,” Noctis ground out.

“That's no way to talk, we're all civilized here.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Ardyn put his forefinger to his mouth, pretending to think.

“Let's see, let's see,” he hummed.

He dropped his finger and looked at the prince. His expression had changed, a dark, predatory shadow falling across his face.

“To break you. To take from you.”

Noctis tensed. He felt the danger of attack, a monster sitting across from him rather than a man. The moment was suspended, neither men moving.

Ardyn's features melted in false geniality.

“What do you say? A fair trade: your retainer's eyesight for a little bit of time with me?”

A moment passed and the prince nodded.

  
  
  


“Where the hell is he?” grumbled Gladio, foot bouncing while his hands were planted on his hips.

Neither Ignis nor Prompto replied, both, however, appeared worried. 

Noctis didn't appear for another hour or so, finally shambling into the train compartment. His face was pinched, his gait a limp. No one spoke to him.

  
  
  


The next morning they disembarked as close as they could get to Gralea. Rumours said that the Crystal was being kept in the Imperial city. They drove until it became dark and stopped at a motel. Ignis assigned chores and the three went about them. Prompto headed to the nearby shop with a list of needed items, Gladio grabbed the dirty laundry, and Noctis began cleaning the Regalia out.

Ignis lingered near the car, occasionally trying to help. Noctis could see that the man’s eyes were weighed with consideration, snapping to him everytime he spoke.

“You’ve been eating?” asked Ignis.

“Yeah,” he replied, dismissive as he grabbed an old wrapper stuffed in the side door of the back seats.

“And your injuries, they haven’t been bothering you?”

He gritted his teeth, wishing Ignis would just leave him alone.

“They’re fine,” he said, a little aggressive.

“I’m just worried,” responded his retainer, voice cumbered with worry and frustration.

“Then don’t be.”

It was a cruel thing to say, Ignis had sacrificed everything his whole life worrying, caring, and making sure Noctis was alive and well and, to the best of his ability, happy. But Noctis was done with it, with the sacrificing on his behalf, he wasn’t worth it. Ignis deserved so much more, was a better man and person than Noctis could ever aspire to be. He needed to worry about himself.

“Noctis, please, we can’t afford you getting ill, the-”

“Yeah, I know, the world needs me, I said I’m fine, don’t worry Specs,” he cut him off, sharp and firm.

“You can’t just depend on yourself, we’re here for you, this is our job, our meaning!” Ignis was almost shouting, voice raised in angered worry.

“Then maybe it shouldn’t be.”

The air was heavy with tension. Noctis felt all his anger flee his body in exchange for guilt and apprehension. Ignis had given it all up, and he knew his friend was having a hard time finding his place and believing that he was supposed to be here.

“Iggy I-”

“We’ll discuss this when you are in a more amenable mood,” Ignis’ voice was frigid.

Ignis then fumbled with his cane and felt out for the nearby park bench. When he was sitting, Noctis mumbled something about helping Gladio before heading towards their door.

Noctis walked into their motel room hoping for some peace and quiet after his gruelling interrogation with Ignis. Instead he saw that Gladio was folding clothes.

He shifted uncomfortably by the motel bed. The freshly laundered clothing was spread across it and Gladio stood there, looking at him with eyes for once inscrutable.

Noctis silently began helping, picking up one of Prompto's tank tops and beginning to straighten it.

“Iggy sounded pretty pissed,” Gladio said quietly, no inflection in his tone.

Noctis shrugged in response. He tossed his finished item on the other queen bed and picked up the next thing.

“You wanna tell me anything?” asked Gladio, glancing up at him with a probing gaze.

Noctis narrowed his eyes, tensing. He could sense that this wasn't a lightly entered conversation. Gladio was prepping for a confrontation. Noctis almost wanted to walk out. He wasn't ready to be chewed out and have more accusations, and at this point just plain abuse, thrown at him. Gladio could deal with his own Six damned problems without taking them out on him. But he was the root of those problems, wasn't he? And was it fair to ask his friend to suffer for him and then refuse him the right to bring his complaints before his King?

Noctis had thousands of lives to answer for and the only ones he could were his friends’.

“Not really,” he drawled, trying to keep his tone even.

Gladio didn't look angry at the reply, just hurt. Noctis felt his heart sink, even in trying to redeem himself he was screwing up.

“You sure? Because I have a hell of a lot of questions,” Gladio lifted up a pair of Noctis’ white boxers, a cheap set that had been picked up at a dime shop in Lestallum after a bad hunt and the realization that they needed certain necessities.

They were the pair from after. The blood stains were a rusty brown now, but they were spread across the material in a macabre pattern. Noctis went pale, felt his throat close up and his hands clench to keep from trembling. He thought he'd thrown them away.

“You weren't ever going to tell me, were you? Any of us,” Gladio sounded broken, eyes wet, and this wasn't what Noctis wanted.

He turned his eyes to the small pile of clean clothing and tried to get his composure back. He was not ready to talk about this, never would be, and he had counted on the sacrifice Luna had mentioned coming soon and making it so he wouldn’t have to live long enough to ever deal with it. Death had started to grow in appeal, an eternal rest, one last attempt at redemption without sticking around to fuck things back up.

Gladio snorted, a wet, bitter sound.

“‘Course you weren't,” he said quietly. “Not like I've really been willing to listen.”

Noctis could hear his blood thrumming in his ears, panic starting to take over.

“Does anybody know?” He asked, panic and desperation in his tone.

Gladio was staring at him like he was tearing him apart word by word. The man bunched the cloth up in his fist and turned his eyes to the bed.

“No.”

He felt some relief spill over him at his Shield’s answer. Good, Prompto and especially Ignis had been spared an unnecessary weight.

Gladio saw the release of tension and looked even more bothered by it.

“Was it on the train?”

Noctis realized that he owed at least some truth to his friend so he inclined his head in affirmation.

“So you can't even tell your Shield you were hurt? I would have helped, hell, I would've killed them.”

For some reason that twisted something in Noctis, it threw the memories up fresh and painful, the intimacy with someone, and the brutality linked with it. He wasn't forced to, it was a choice, he wasn't weak.

“It was consensual,” he bit out, the anger and pain flashing hot.

Gladio's face twisted.

“You wanted to be hurt?” He asked in horrified --to Noctis disgusted-- disbelief.

“No,” Noctis snapped, aggravated, this entire conversation poking at a pulsing wound he didn’t have time to afford acknowledging.

The admission left the room quiet. He could see that Gladio was making assumptions, ones that were probably close to the truth.

“So that's how we afforded this room.”

It was a statement and Gladio sounded once again monotone and unreadable.

The memory of Ardyn tossing gil on the floor next to him, a taunting smile and cruel words passing before he left him in the empty compartment in a small pool of his own blood and feeling absolutely worthless. 

“Fucking shit,” Gladio breathed out, obviously having held out some small hope that Noctis would counter the harshly approaching reality, would yell ‘psych’ and toss some stupid line out.

He couldn’t look at Gladio, the memories crawling over him, he couldn’t stand to see the shame that was doubtlessly on Gladio's face, the recurring evidence of his inescapable weakness. He was supposed to be strong.

“I'm your Shield, Noctis, if that shit happens, which it should never come to, I'm doing it. Fucking hell,” Gladio sounded absolutely undone, shaking between rage and horror and a breathless sensation of failure, “you're the King, this isn't what you go and do.”

Noctis hated that. He was done with people sacrificing themselves for him just because he was a king. He wasn't worth shit, and he knew it, but even if he was, that wasn't what a king was supposed to allow to happen.

“You’ve done your job. I'm alive. My duty is to the people, everything I am is for the people. I know it's a crap hand for them, but I'm trying. I'm giving, Gladio, and I'll be dead by the end of this if that's what it takes. This won’t be the worst thing I have to give,” said Noctis, before tacking on in a bitter, humorless retort, “Besides, it's not like I was saving myself for anyone anyhow.”

He knew he sounded bitter and angry, but if he wasn't then he knew he'd be crying, and begging to just give up. He kept moving and moving because if he stopped he knew that everyone would be let down. He was getting off of his ass and out of his head, just like Gladio had said, a bit of unwanted and painful sex, and a minor injury, didn't compare to what other people had endured, so he could suck it up and see his destiny through.

Noctis left the room, walking away and trying to keep his composure. His hands were shaking and the world again felt like it was collapsing. He just needed to push it down, to remember that he had to just keep going until he found the Crystal and then, well, he’d figure it out.

  
  
  
  


Noctis didn’t sleep in the room, staying out on a bench until he got into the car. Prompto went and checked on him, reporting back to his friends. Ignis thought it was because of their argument from earlier. Gladio assumed it was from the conversation he’d had in the room. All three slept poorly.

  
  
  
  


In the morning, Ignis opened his eyes to the bright light of the sun shining through the window. He winced, blinking, everything blurry. He tried to get his eyes to focus before memory reminded him that everything was always going to be black, always.

Ignis shot up in bed, hands pawing at his eyes, feeling the scar and his eyelids. Everything was supposed to be black. He threw the covers off, and fell to the floor in his attempts to get off of the bed. He felt, hell, he saw, hands on him. They were very blurred, really just more of shadows that still had no meaning, but it was more than he had ever hoped.

“Shit, Iggy, you okay man?”

It was Gladio. He couldn’t respond, still trying to come to terms with this miraculous recovery. Maybe, maybe since he’d taken this long to recover he would even regain more of his eyesight? Hope, something he felt he’d lost back in Altissia --where the last image he thought he’d ever see being his prince’s dying form-- filled him.

“I can see light, Gladio,” Ignis whispered, heart hammering.

“What?” Gladio whispered.

“What’s going on? Is everyone alright?” 

Ignis saw another blurred movement, it was Prompto. He started crying.

“He said he can see light, I-I don’t know what that means, but-”

“He could end up seeing again?” finished Prompto.

“Yeah,” responded Gladio, tone happy for once.

“Oh man! That’s amazing!” cried Prompto. “Wait until Noct hears!”

The happy moment became subdued. Gladio helped Ignis to his feet and Prompto started clearing up their stuff.

When they emerged out of the motel they found Noctis seated on a bench, propped up rather than his usual slump, and obviously asleep unwillingly. When Prompto woke him up, he flinched under the hand and looked away. The blonde shared the news with Noctis and Noctis didn’t look surprised. Prompto didn’t seem to notice, Ignis obviously didn’t, but Gladio noticed.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda dark, probably just a one-shot. Just me, expressing, getting shit out.
> 
> Also, quick note, generally rape isn't sexual in nature, it is an act of dominance, and is used to break an enemy or to help disseminate future problems (I cite the rape of the women of Sabine done by Romulus in the formation of Rome to ensure that the Sabines would be forced to join them, btw, that shit move actually worked really well).


End file.
